


come warm your bones

by ineffability



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Gen, M/M, could be interpreted as non-shippy, honestly the purest fluff i've ever written, i'm emotional ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-12-13 05:52:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11753400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ineffability/pseuds/ineffability
Summary: Jesus on a bike, Dan was living a charmed life.alternatively titled: bants, plants and everyone's favourite kink, happy dan.





	come warm your bones

It was pretty quiet in the duplex. He used to hate silences, a little, the way it seeped into everything and added to the white noise in his mind. Blasting emo music was one way to block it out. He’s glad he doesn’t have to resort to that anymore.

This was a content type of quiet though, filled with the low rumble of life anchoring him to the now and the here. The drip of a tap he’d been meaning to fix (well - call a plumber about. Him, with a wrench - not a good combo.) Some birds chirping outside (although an annoyance in early mornings). He could hear Phil cooking in the kitchen as well, the sound of a wok crackling on the stove.

Speaking of, he needed to call up some contractors about the fire alarms in the place. British houses, man. It was one downfall or the other.

A few years ago, he may have sat on the issue for another couple of days before mustering the effort to stumble his way through the conversation. But today was a good day. To be honest, it’s been a good year.

He dialled the number of a contractor they’d used when they were trying to fix up the gas in the old apartment, hesitating only for a moment before hitting dial.

Absent-mindedly, he went through the calming routine of watering his houseplants, pressing the phone between his cheek and his shoulder.

“Yeah, there’s a problem with the fire alarms, I think. We burnt some dinner in the oven a while back when we were distracted with a movie and there was a lot of smoke and everything, but they were pretty much unresponsive.”

Well, it was technically an anime, and they weren’t “distracted” so much as “sobbing uncontrollably during an emotional scene”, but, you know. Not everything needed to be shared.

He hummed agreeably as the worker on the line talked about the time they could come in for a check on the fire alarms. 

“Yeah, sounds good to me,” he said, tweaking a leaf that looked a bit sad, coaxing it into a happier position. “We pretty much never venture outside, so don’t worry about us not being home.”

To his delight, the guy on the line seemed to share his sense of humour and even laughed a little. Score.

“Okay, thanks, yeah, bye,” he said, smiling as his patted his houseplant. It really was a good day. Those seemed to happen more and more, these days.

Jesus, they really were living a charmed life. Rays of sunshine everywhere.

“Hey,” Phil said, poking his head into the room. Speak of the devil. “I cooked some premade Chinese noodles. It’s been sitting in the back of the shelf for a while, so fingers crossed on no food poisoning?"

“If not, I also welcome the sweet release of death,” he replied, following Phil into the kitchen. It was a pretty common joke, but. For once. He honestly doesn’t think he actually means it.

“Ha-ha,” Phil said, wrinkling his nose. “My cooking will kill all the germs anyhow. None of those nasty pathogens can stand a chance against the power of love and happiness infused into dry noodles.”

“You sure it won’t just create a perfect toxic breeding environment?” he said, seating himself on a table and prodding at the noodles with some chopsticks. They certainly looked dry.

“Hey, my cooking skills are exemplary,” Phil retorted, seating himself on a stool instead, like a civilised person (lies). “Knowledge gained from sensei Cooking Mama herself.”

Dan snorted. But he dug into the noodles anyway. Whatever, he wasn’t going to complain about the quality of cooking in this household, he knew he hadn’t magically gained miraculous cooking skills overnight.

They actually did have a dining table outside of the kitchen, equipped with colourful bright dining chairs à la their Sim Dil’s house, but currently that table was stacked to the ceiling with boxes they hadn’t bothered to unpack from moving day, so. Kitchen it was.

“I called the fire alarm people,” he said, conversationally. “Now we can all be blessed with a shrieking siren the next time you set the kitchen on fire -”

“I think,” Phil cut in, loudly. “We can all agree, that you were the one responsible for leaving the chicken in the oven.”

“Who's we, you and the Queen?” he snorted. “I _did_ say, and you can’t claim that you’ve forgotten this, you sneaky snek, ‘oh, did we take the chicken out’, before the girl started confessing, but then you were all, ‘oh of _course_ we did’, and look where that got us!”  


“Okay, okay,” Phil said, waving a hand dismissively. “But wouldn’t you say - wouldn’t you say that it was all for the good of mankind in the end, since we discovered the faulty fire alarm?”

He reached across the space to shove his palm into Phil’s face, just to articulate how much Phil’s opinion mattered, which was, of course, not at all. 

“ _No,_ ” he said. “We could’ve _actually died_.”

“But we didn’t!” Phil said, presumably, since he was hearing something muffled behind his palm. “Cakes! Confetti! We should throw a ‘we’re still alive!’ party.”

“Phil, we hate parties,” he said drily.

“Oh yeah.”

A pause.

“I still think that it was an overall beneficial experience though. Now we can move on into the future knowing that we probably won’t die whenever we leave the gas on accidentally,” Phil said, nodding confidently, as though he had made sense, ever, in his life.

Dan’s exclamation of “You’ve left the gas on before?!” went ignored.

“So therefore,” Phil concluded finally. “I’m right, you’re wrong, and the universe agrees.”

“Careful, you’ll turn into Donald Trump,” he replied, shoving the last of the noodles into his mouth, carefully staring in the opposite direction.

“Low blow!” Phil said, putting his plate down as well. “There’s only one way to settle this. Like men.”

He snorted. God, they were nerds. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll get the Mario Kart out. Somehow I feel like this is the _opposite_ of deescelation.”

The only response he got was a bright grin and a promise to be crushed.

Jesus on a frickin’ tricycle, he _was_ happy, wasn’t he.

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is literally just a vent fic to cheer me up i apologise; also the title is from (god help me) the heinz can song i blame dodie


End file.
